Word: haired
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Dates: during 1960-1960
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...ecstasy of teenagers or the wild urge of the throngs to touch him. The more he campaigned, the more he seemed endowed with the same charisma that won and held popularity for Dwight Eisenhower. In appearance he is a slender man with a boyish face, an uncontrollable shock of hair, a dazzling smile. In manner he is alert, incisive, speaking in short, terse sentences in a chowderish New England accent that he somehow makes attractive (even when he pronounces Cincinnati as "Since-in-notty" in Cincinnati), reaching with no apparent effort into a first-class mind for historical anecdotes...
...tall, thin man with closely cropped hair, Bentley had originally intended to be a concert pianist. The prospect of the professional musician's grim life changed his mind at the last minute, and he went from Oxford to Yale, where he received a doctorate in Comparative Literature. Among his many books and anthologies, The Playwright as Thinker (1946) and In Search of a Theater (1947), are the most well known. He has attracted a wide audience of grateful readers with his series of anthologies, From the Modern Repertoire, The Modern Theater, and The Classic Theater. Bentley as an anthologizer tends...
Driving his own car, Stafford arrived about an hour. He is a thin, tall, dignified looking man in his mid-forties of brown hair curls in ridges, his profile is semi-circular squalling nose is most prominent. Slightly disturbing in watery gray eyes, which have trouble, fixing on anyone opposes...
...anything else-and it is merely a whim that brings her to a clattering New Zealand town to study with a master who is himself an exile there. She meets him: "'Give me some more of that wine Léon.' I investigate the state of my hair. 'I feel better now.' I watch the green-clad form humbling and anxiously pouring my wine not spilling any this time taking the greatest care. Can't you men be pathetic? Especially when you're in the heart's confessional. But I never...
...country but a living eye: "The traveler in this land could not record. It was rather as if he himself were recorded ... in the ringing blue sky, the temples, the supple brushes of cypress, the sun beating in a withering hypnotic dazzle on the statues with curly stone hair and blunt sagacious noses...